Blair Waldorf And The Hat
by licensedtolive
Summary: But in his duty prompt at every call, he watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all." - Oliver Goldsmith. Blair Waldorf meets the Hat for a sorting, and the Hat sees Blair's future. Blair/Draco
1. Present

A/N Hey guys I know I haven't been active in the FF community for a while. I was just going through my old stories on my computer and I realised I haven't posted this up. It's a multi-chaptered fic but one that I _guarantee_ I will finish, since I'm already 80% done anyway. It's a drabble, if you wish., that popped into my mind one day and wouldn't go away. Blair meets the Hat, the Hat sees Blair's future and picks out which House is good for her. It's pretty depressing, if you're a light!happy!go-lucky! sort of person. Which, you might be able to tell, I'm not.

Review, please.

* * *

It is the beginning of the new school year, and the grounds of Hogwarts are dotted with black robes as students file one by one into the Great Hall. The Great Hall is one of the greatest magical archetypical structures of the ages, filled with humming magic that is spun like the finest silk. The air is charmed to sing like birds fresh in spring, and the gold chandeliers to droop lazily; majestically from the ceiling, magically enchanted to embody the vibrant hues of autumn, pure gold against dark, burnt auburn. Four long tables, each lined with the different colors – green, red, yellow and blue – stretch out the vast length of the Hall, four parallel lines streaking away from the Headmaster's grand table.

It is breathtaking.

Eleven year old Blair Waldorf supposes it will be tolerable.

Her beautiful brown tresses are pulled back in a neat ponytail, and although she is young her beauty is apparent. Her cheekbones are high and sculpted, her skin porcelain white like a queen, and her chocolate eyes are large and doe-like. She is the personification of Innocence – or would be, if not for the curl lifting the side of her perfectly shaped lips.

It is apparent she is born into wealth (she is decked in _Eleanor Waldorf_ robes, no less). Her mother, Pureblood of course, was the leading designer and the founder of the upscale beauty boutique_ Eleanor Waldorf Designs_ for high magical-society wives. Her father, another Pureblood (thank God), was one of the top-notch Magical Defense Attorney at a private reputable law firm, well-known for its rather elitist stand in only catering to the fabulously wealthy who could afford their services. He was also in the Wizengamot, as well as being a significant shareholder in Gringotts.

Blair crinkles her nose (she straightens it out again quickly; it was _rude_). Although it was safe to say she held nothing but the highest respect for her parents, this had to be the worst decision they had ever made. At least in Beauxbatons last year (she'd been accepted there in an early admission in a magical aptitude test), the students were sorted purely by social standings. Of course, Blair had been immediately accepted to the Upper East Sorority with her best friend Serena and her boyfriend since _forever_ Nate and _his_ best friend Chuck (who was absolutely repulsive, what did Nate see in him?).

But Hogwarts had offered her a place too at the end of that year, and her parents had switched her schools because the education system here was _better,_ and Eleanor had to open her new conglomerate of beauty charms and potions here anyway.

She'd heard stories about the Sorting, where witches and wizards alike were supposedly sorted (well, Chuck had told a few rumors about the Sorting being having to battle a seven-headed chimera but that was stupid, not to mention her parents would _sue_) according to a person's _character._ How inane. It was a terrifying thought, though, that she might get stuck in a room filled with ugly girls who lacked even the barest modicum of fashion sense for sevenyears_. Seven._

Blair notices the Headmaster speaking, but only distractedly. He's old and wrinkly and he looks intelligent except for the fact he was wearing a bright purple robe with orange trimming that she might have seen on sale at _Madam Maulkins_.

Purple with orange.

Madam Maulkins.

_Sale._

Hogwarts was mad, the whole lot of them.

The Headmaster is finished speaking and around her a few people are chuckling, but she doesn't get the joke so she ignores it and turns her attention to the elderly female teacher (who has clearly never heard of Beauty Charms or Anti-Aging Potions), who reaches behind her to produce a…

A _hat_.

It's black and old-looking and wrinkly. Its pointed tip sags at the top.

Blair's struck with the mental thought that it just might be the shape of her _breasts_, fifty years from now. She shudders and promptly resolves never to think anything remotely as disturbing as that ever again.

It opens the brim of its hat, to form a strong resemblance to what might have been a mouth, and abruptly speaks, its voice croaky and surprisingly strong. Some First Years around her jump in fright at the sudden noise, and the older students snigger. Blair's not surprised, though, although she _would_ fall off her seat if the hat announced itself to be taken from the summer catalogue of _Warloca._ Honestly, even historical relics fundamental to the development of magic of this age shouldn't have the excuse of looking so _filthy_ and proletarian.

The hat is singing now, in a voice that reminded her of the Warbling Sisters possibly undergoing puberty (hence the cracked voice), but Blair isn't interested. Surely they didn't expect her to put that _thing_ – her, a _Waldorf_- on her head? _You can't be serious. You can't be serious. You _definitely _cannot be serious_. A persistent voice in her head repeats over and over again, followed by a mind-conjured tinkling, annoying laugh of disbelief. Now that she thought of if, that laugh did sound a whole lot like Serena's…

"Antonio, Gordon."

A lanky boy with glasses hurries to put it on and almost trips on his feet. Blair distractedly fights a smirk from curling up. But her thoughts are preoccupied. _Oh Merlin, they _really_ do expect us to wear it, don't they?_

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

This time, Blair doesn't fight the smirk.

She already knows what she wants, and she's already color coded all her headbands, accessories and spare robes to be of silver-green. It's perhaps the only place that she can meet other people who might have an inkling of society and high culture that Blair has been reared in, and she's not going to let that opportunity slide and get shoved into any of the other savage Houses, much less _Hufflepuff_.

"Pétain, Pierre. _SLYTHERIN_!"

Blair claps because the boy's handsome with his bright blue eyes and his wink that somehow finds her and singles her disinterested figure out from the rest of the enthusiastically clapping First Years, and the fact that he's ambling toward the Slytherin table.

"Norringston, Theodore. _RAVENCLAW!_"

"Niels, Humphrey. _GRYFFINDOR_!"

"Parkinson, Penelope. _HUFFLEPUFF_!"

There is a stunned silence, long enough for Blair to gather with arched eyebrows that this is probably not supposed to happen. She knew the Parkinsons were a wealthy upper-class family that often shopped in her mother's boutique, and were often invited for tea parties and balls within the pureblood society. The Parkinsons would probably recover from the slight, but even so it would be propriety to write to Eleanor to inform her one less invitation to the Haute Couture Show this year.

"Smith, Juliet. _GRYFFINDOR_!"

Blair cringes because the buck-toothed girl with frizzy red hair is the fourth Muggleborn to wear the hat already and Blair wonders how many times she will have to wash her hair out after today.

"Valentine, Jarrell. _HUFFLEPUFF_!"

Blair claps politely because it's her turn next and she doesn't want to give a bad impression of her teachers. After all, she is perfection and she is designed to please. She is schooled in the finer arts of culture and etiquette and she doesn't want to disgrace the Waldorf name.

"Waldorf, Blair."

As Blair slowly walks to the hat and tries to school her face into an excited, happy one, she can hear whispers stirring from the audience.

"Blair Waldorf? As in, _Waldorf_?"

"Like, from _Eleanor Waldorf Designs_?"

"You think she'll let us peek at their fall collection?"

"Man, she's _hot_."

"She's way too young for you, paedophile."

"For a First Year, I mean."

Blair settles herself down in the rickety old stool with as much dignity and composure as possible, schooling her face into a slight smile as she can muster, trying to convince herself that it would be over soon, she would not contract any Muggleborn-related disease that would make her perfect hair fall off, this Hat would not give her the case of Uncurable Dandruff…

She's surprised when the Hat speaks _in her mind._

* * *

The Hat sees everything.

It's been with Godric Gryffindor for as long as it can remember, ever since Gryffindor fashioned it; knitted its first threads and knots with magic and intertwined each strand with a fraction of its power. It made the Hat infallible in where he himself was fallible to – Time. The Hat, rugged and worn as it might be, the magic Gryffindor had imbued it with had enabled it to withstand the harsh, demanding sands of Time designed to crumble and take away.

The Hat had seen its fair share of magic in every single kind of student, but as it was it was not its place to comment on the magical capability of each – only to see the character, through and through, and to sort them accordingly into the Houses best suited to nurture them and fully develop their potential into the best they can be.

The Hat is impervious to time, and when it is sat on a student's head it accesses that particular unique ability granted by Godric to see what it could not. It sees the Past, Present, and Future. Of them all, the Future is far by the most uncertain, and for each student there is a myriad of Futures, every one generated from every single choice the person has made, or has to make. The Hat sees them all, and it sieves out only the best, and determines what House has made them this way.

It is cleverly done, but the power given to the Hat is a large one, and sometimes the Hat wishes it cannot see, if only to escape the enormity of the responsibility and the knowledge that of every single Hogwarts alumni bearing the Dark Mark, _it was it that had made them this way_. Twisted and evil, but stretched to the best capability that they can be.

The Hat is weary from all its thoughts as it rummages through the latest First Year – _Jerrell is seven years old and he sees Mother crying, an ugly black mark blossoming on her face from where Father had struck her and he hurries over – "Ma, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean to make him mad, it's my fault, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"_ This boy is of pure heart and so much love for a boy in his situation, and he will grow up to be an exceptional owner of an orphanage that would care children, who he will treat like his own.

_HUFFLEPUFF_.

And the next First Year ambles over, Blair Waldorf, and the Hat sees the disgust in her slightly scrunched nose, the sway in her walk of someone knowing that she is pretty, _knowing_ that she will be beautiful, and a challenge in the innocent brown eyes and it knows that this one will be difficult.

The Hat lowers itself on her head, and images of the Past surface and the Hat watches, absorbs and decides.

* * *

**_i. Ravenclaw_**

She is intelligent, very much so.

_Blair Waldorf sits on the examination chair, her back straight and her chin tilted just like her mother teaches her too. Her tiny hand grips her wand with a surprising familiarity for one as young as she, and a slight smirk tugs at her lips as she stares at the Invigilator for her Magical Aptitude test. _

"_Let's see," Madame Marie says. "Show me the Hovering Charm."_

_Ten year old Blair doesn't show it, but she's disappointed. She'd thought the Magical Aptitude test would demand something more challenging, like something involving the Locator Spell or even the quick _Transfiguration _of something. Certainly not something that she had mastered when she was six. But this is a test and Blair aims to please, so she flicks her wand and commands haughtily, "Wingardium Leviosa."_

_The pen hovers, delightfully steady and just for fun Blair twitches her wand and the pen spells out her name in the air, leaving threads of shimmering red (like her headband) and frills to spell her name BLAIR CORNELIA WALDORF. She looks triumphantly over at the older woman as she applauds in wonder, Blair's dark eyes glittering with triumph at the show of praise and admiration – the admiration that was due to her prodigious skill at magic. Affection that Eleanor had never shown at home save for when Blair was exhibited at parties - _

_Of course, what Blair does not know is that what she has done is in the curriculum of Beauxbaton's Third Grade – two years above her own._

_Blair exits the room with her head held even higher, after managing to Transfigure her goblet into mice (pink, because she hates white rats with red eyes). Madam Marie negates to mention Colour Changing Charms are taught in Beauxbaton's Fifth Year, and in the OWLs syllabus in England and instead claps politely with restrained excitement. _

_Blair exits the classroom and walks past a surly, brooding looking boy with overly-gelled hair (too tacky) and dark arrogant eyes. "I've already gotten a place, Waldorf. The teacher said my audition was…memorable." he calls out lazily, eyelids lowering. _

_Blair narrows her eyes at him. She's not surprised if he's made a pass at the teacher; he's done it to women old enough to be his grandmother before. "Only cause Daddy Dearest bribed Madam Maxime, I suppose." She sneers back with equal contempt._

_His eyes narrow at she knows she's hit a nerve. "You won't get in princess," he spits. "They only take in the best."_

_A thousand retorts fly to the front of her mind, but Blair notices a large, grownup frame fill the doorway. Blair turns, and smiles sweetly at Chuck Bass, although her eyes flare venom and promise a challenge. A sly smile curls Chuck's lips as he watches her turn and walk away, head held high like royalty. _

_Of course, Blair doesn't mention the entire interview on her part was conducted in fluent French (taught by her father's lover no less), and instead she walks away with a smile reminiscent of a Kneazle who caught the Pygmy Puff. _

_A week later, she gets the letter. She doesn't squeal and jump about because it's so undignified, but she smiles and beams at her mother anyway. Dorota shouts in delight and grabs her in a hug. Her mother doesn't look up once as she mutters her congratulations, and hurries off for tea with the Minister's wife._

Quite intelligent, the Hat muses. She'd been top of the year in Beauxbatons. She would do well in Ravenclaw, if intelligence was her only trait. But it isn't, and so the Hat notes with disappointment the loss that Ravenclaw will never know it lost.

* * *

**_ii. Hufflepuff_**

Underneath the cold exterior of disdain and disapproval, and underneath the angles at which her chin was tilted, almost arrogantly up away from those deemed to be below her, Blair Waldorf did have the makings of a Hufflepuff.

"_S? Why are you crying?" Blair asks, tentatively. She doesn't dare approach the sobbing Serena – she is, after all, wearing her new dress from the fall collection of _Delacoure. _But Serena has been her best friend since forever, after all, and although there is a twinge of satisfaction that the beautiful Serena is, of course, prone to crying like any other human being, it is extinguished under the weight of her concern._

_Serena looks over, and Blair thinks stupidly for a moment that even when crying and being only ten years old, Serena still manages to look beautiful, a photoshopped child model on the cover of Witches Weekly._

"_It's just…my _family_," Serena sobs as she reaches for a tissue. "I miss home."_

_Blair stares. _She_ doesn't miss home – alright, maybe she does miss Dorota, her house elf, and Daddy a little. But she doesn't really miss her mother who's always away at her boutique to even bother about her (except when she told her she was getting fat) and Daddy was always out with his boyfriend anyway so it didn't matter, really. Being at Beauxbatons, surrounded with magic and her best friend was going to be so much fun. _

_Then again, Serena did have a better life. Her mom liked her and bought pretty dresses for her and complimented her all the time, her brother was cute and easygoing, she was the prettiest girl ever (although she wasn't the brightest by far), and all the boys liked her._

"_A-and," Serena continued, her voice breaking into small hiccups, "Anne Baudrillard told me she – she – she thought I was u- u-gly and that she didn't l-l-like me."_

_Blair narrows her eyes. Anne Baudrillard was the resident Queen Bee of the Upper East Sorority, and it was apparent to all except maybe for Serena that the fifth-year felt threatened by the pretty first-year. Blair gives her wand an uncertain flick, and Scourgifies the tears off Serena's angelic face. "It's OK, S," Blair assures her. "You're pretty."_

_She glances up, and there is a certain, distinct, Slytherin-like gleam in her eyes as she adds, "I think I might have a word with her, though."_

_Everyone is surprised when Anne transfers out of Beauxbatons two months later, leaving in sobs and designer frocks in disarray, clutching her wand to her chest. Whispers abound that the Queen's sudden departure from the ruling court, and now there is a gap of ruling hierarchy that begs to be filled. Naturally, everyone vies for it. _

_Everybody but the Upper East Siders whisper when news gets out that Blair Waldorf, a first year, makes Queen .The UESers simply smirk at the others' ignorance, and the UES Girls tug their matching headbands a little lower_.

Blair Waldorf would never accept herself as a Hufflepuff. She would fight against the system, and when she indubitably fails, resent Hogwarts, and perhaps even herself. She will grow up to be a respected, but bitter fashion critic.

* * *

**_iii. Gryffindor_**

Gryffindor, then? There _is_ a surprising amount of Gryffindor in this individual – the tendency of chivalry was present in Blair Waldorf, although it didn't make a frequent appearance. Blair knew what was wrong and what was right, the only problem was that she often overlooked it and overstepped the boundaries anyway.

_Blair glares at Chuck. "You cheated." She grounds out. _

_Chuck lifts an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? How?"_

"_It was a _duel_!" Blair stomps her foot on the ground. "You're supposed to use a wand to duel! You're not supposed to _punch _her_!"

_Chuck shrugged nonchalantly. "Georgina deserved it," he says flatly, his eyes boring into her in such a manner that Blair begins to fidget, a little. "You should have heard the way she was talking about you. Besides, everyone knows you two hate each other. I thought you'd be happy that she's covered in boils and now everyone knows you're much prettier-"_

"_She's a _girl_, Chuck!" Blair screeched, although a part of her glows at Chuck's unintentional compliment."Besides, you can't go around hexing everyone who talks about me into the Infirmary!"_

_Chuck's lower lip juts out, and he matches Blair's blistering gaze as he replies contemptuously, "You're a girl, Blair. You were the one who insisted that girls are just as good as boys. So why can't I hex girls?"_

"_You – you just can't."_

"_Georgina deserved it."_

_Blair nods quietly. "She did," she concedes, and pauses. "Thank you, Chuck."_

_She turns away from Chuck; who watches her with a strange expression for a while before he shoves his hands in his robes and runs away to play with Nate Archibald and the other boys, a new bounce in his step. _

"_But it's still wrong." Blair whispers to herself, in a voice so low no one can hear as she hurries away to the Infirmary._

Blair Waldorf might make a good Gryffindor, but she would forever face the disapproval in the Pureblood society, where the number of Hogwarts attendees ending up in Gryffindor were close to negligible. She would fight her family with the fire of Gryffindor, of course, but her self-confidence would be diminished. Similarly while she fought for her Gryffindor ideals, she would try to stage a Slytherin hierarchy in the house of Gryffindor, and fail spectacularly in that ideal. Needless to say, Blair Waldorf would be an outcast in both her House and her home.

* * *

**_iv. Slytherin_**

The Hat notes with bitter regret that alas, Blair Waldorf's most dominant trait is that of cunning and manipulation, and do stifle such domineering traits would be impossible. She is so utterly Slytherin, and despite her redeeming qualities of loyalty and chivalry and intelligence she is cunning and knows how to use those qualities to her advantage.

"_Anne Baudrillard?"_

_The fifth-year, surrounded as usual by her giggling girlfriends and a few fawning boys, turned around and raised an eyebrow at Blair Waldorf. She was very beautiful, _Blair thinks_, like a full grown doll. With perfect, olive skin, dark hair, blue eyes and Veela blood Anne was easily the prettiest girl to walk the halls of Beauxbatons._

_A pity she has to go. Blair had always looked up to her._

"_Oh, she eez adorable!" one of the girls exclaims, bending down to pat Blair's head. Blair's head snaps up and glares a fiery look so scathing the girl jerks her hand back and laughs nervously. "Ooh, theez one eez…how do you say it…a firecracker?"_

_Blair's smile shows a lot of teeth, although her eyes are cold. "Anne, could I please talk to you?"_

_A few of her friends laugh at the mere thought of it, but the sniggers turns into curious looks as Anne irritably waves them away. "Go, go. I will see you at lunch."_

_As soon as they have disappeared around the corner, Anne glances around furtively and drags her into the nearest empty classroom. "What are you doing?" she snarls. "I _told_ you not to approach me in daylight!"_

_Blair stares coolly at her mentor. Blair has always respected and looked up to the older girl. Ever since the first week of school Anne has marked her as her protégé in secret, training her to take over the throne once she has graduated. Midnight rendezvous had been in order, with Anne teaching Blair everything one has to know about ruling the Bitch Court as Queen. _

_A pity then, that usurpation of the throne was in order._

"_I thought I might just want to give you a heads-up, Anne," Blair says coolly. _

_A perfectly manicured eyebrow is raised. "What do you mean, leetle one?"_

_Blair tries not to bristle at the derogatory term, or the condescending sneer in the older girl's voice. She pitches her voice lower, as if sharing a juicy secret. "I'm just saying, I saw Renee and Professor Aquinae make out outside his quarters on the eighth floor. They looked like they were in love!"_

_And Blair sees it – the thing she has been eyeing Anne's face keenly for. A flash of anger and jealousy and hurt and guilt._

Score.

"_Why would you think something so minor would interest me, leetle one?" Anne sneers, but it has little of its intended venom and falls flat. _

"_Of course, forgive me." Blair looks up at her with wide eyes. "I didn't know you were over the Professor so fast that you would be so impassive. It must be that charming Michel from seventh year that has stolen your heart now, no?"_

_Anne goes white. "You – you know?"_

_Blair inclines her head, and there is a fire in her eyes now that she has seen the prize within reach, and now it's clear she's playing for keeps. "Of course, I was absolutely _shocked_ when I saw them – Renee and Professor Aquinae, naturally – together. This is an institution for learning, after all. Some propriety should be observed between teacher and student! Can you imagine how this will affect Beauxbaton's reputation if this leaks out? Wouldn't you agree, Anne?" Blair looks at Anne, feigning ignorance, though is a predatory smile now, which looks oddly out of place on a first-year._

_Anne's face is looking more frantic now. "Of- of course."_

"_Well, if this got out – the professor would be sacked, naturally, for having sexual liaisons with his students. And Renee; her future will be _ruined_ of course. Smashed to smithereens. Imagine the scandal! If I were related to her, I certainly wouldn't show my face to society for years." Blair heaved an exaggerated sigh._

_Anne didn't say anything, instead her large, wild eyes making her look like a trapped animal._

Checkmate.

"_And after Renee left him he entered his quarters. His door wasn't closed so I peeked in for a little while and saw him writing Renee's name to a list – a list! Do you suppose he writes down the names of those students he sleeps with, Anne? So he doesn't forget them and call them by some other name?"_

"_I-"Anne falters._

_Blair smiles and went in for the kill._

"Well,_ I snuck in at night and copied all the names last night – you know, using the Copy spell you taught me? Well I sealed it up and ran away before I could get caught. I've already done many more copies of it with the Copying spell you taught me– I'm planning on sending a few owls to the Minister of Education, the board of Beauxbatons and pasting a few up on the wall. They _should_ know how education is run in these halls, after all. What do you think?"_

"_I- I have to go." Anne says, pushing past Blair and breaking out into a run. _

_She doesn't see Blair's smirk of triumph as she watches Anne run to her rooms, where she will pack her bags and Floo home in the night. Neither does Anne linger around long enough to wait for the next day, where students enter the Hall and realize there has been a takeover within the span of a few hours and instead, a new Queen on her throne ruling her loyal subjects, and the start of a new regime._

_She will never realize that the only Renee in the school was a bubbly Second Grader; and that the list Blair had indeed seen had been Professor Aquinae's letter of resignation from Beauxbatons clumsily left on his desk, claiming "affairs of the heart" and" emotional obligations"._

_She had even seen the ring, gleaming bright silver under the letter, waiting for it's chance to be slipped onto slender fingers._

_But Blair has always been too caught up in her own fairytales to even imagine the possibility that she just _might've _ruined someone else's. _

Blair's futures are endless, a myriad of different possibilities with different occupations, most successful in their own right save for some. Slytherin is the one house where she will excel in every possible future, aided with adoring housemates. The best future for Blair Waldorf is in Slytherin, where in this optimum future, she will reach her untapped potential. She will push the limits of magic, and she will experiment with new forms of magic. She will be respected in the Wizarding World, and everyone will fear her name.

She is to be the right-hand woman of the Dark Lord.

* * *

A/N please don't flame me for that little twist right there - the sequence of events to lead up to that little bit will all be elaborated on in the next chapters. At the same time, I realise this this little fic isn't meant for everybody. I know a lot of people won't like it, and frankly, I don't really care. This is a story that intrigued me, so I write it. That being said, I would love some feedback.

R&R!


	2. Fourth Year

**A/N **Hey guys I know I said I'd update early but school just caught up to me right now. It's a heck of a year and I have 10+ concurrent projects right about now. I've -finally!- finalised the direction I want to head in. I'm not sure if I gave you guys any wrong ideas about it being a fic- the draft in my computer is the farthest thing away from a fic. It's drabbles throughout their lives, vignettes, almost - I need to make it clear that all these events that are happening are _key_ to how Blair finally ends up. The Sorting Hat is _still_ in Blair's mind, it's just viewing the events that's going to happen really, really quickly (:

SO, ON WITH THE STORY - FOURTH YEAR. Read and review.

* * *

**Fourth Year**

_I. She will get noticed by a Seventh Year, Draco Malfoy. His keen interest in her makes her and her friends giggle loudly, and Blair will just flip her hair back and smile at him. _

It's the Tuesday after Halloween when everything changes.

"Don't look, but he's looking at you again!" Penelope giggles wildly, her hands clapping her mouth in an over-exaggerated gesture, more than likely engineered to attract more attention.

Blair looks, of course.

He's in the corner of the Three Broomsticks with his friends. He's not being drunk or trying to flirt with Madame Rosmerta (she wondered idly if the raucous, sleazy, older, _other_ Slytherin boys knew Rosmerta was only half-blood). Instead, his gaze is a little too steady for someone surrounded by falling-down drunk teenaged wizards, his pale face none of the red flush or the trembling hands associated with the drink clutched in his hands.

His gaze is steady; his gray eyes _smoldering_ as he watches her, and when she stares back at him it's like everything else just falls away and it's just the both of them.

He's gorgeous, looking every bit the part of the white knight she's often imagined she would have. Pale blond hair glinting off in the dim lights; metallic as the sound of clinking glasses (and mumblings of "Cheers, mate" all around) and his gray eyes piercing (she's always preferred blue eyes, but then again she's pretty sure she could _definitely_ get used to gray) and the small but unmistakable smirk that lifts his lips at the edges.

Blair turns her back to him so he can't see the matching smirk on her face, and instead drinks more Butterbeer in a manner she hopes is dignified enough. She would rather have elf-made wine like the ones in her father's cellar, the ones that she _always_ drank at society parties, but this place only serves the bare minimum and Blair will just have to make do.

It's a game she plays with him – the clashing of their eyes (steel gray against chocolate brown) amidst a flurry of activity and a small smirk from either party; a game that only ends when one of them looks away. Blair likes to think it's a quiet flirtation, and as much as she's pissed that he hasn't made a further move a part of her is content to be patient and wait it out. They've been locked in a stalemate for weeks now, anyway, and even the thicker of her friends start to notice the undeniable attraction lingering between them.

She doesn't notice Serena coming up to her and whispering, "B, that's a _seventh year_", because what the hell does she know anyway?

* * *

_II. She will date Draco Malfoy in secret as he takes his NEWTS (_his father doesn't want any distractions for him) _and publicly after the NEWTS are over._

The castle at night is a scary one. It's eerie, without any of the hustle and bustle and good cheer and good cheer of the students. The owls from the Owlery have begun a slow hooting, the doors have started creaking, mice starting the squeaking, and _Merlin-knows-what_ in the Forbidden Forest howling and groaning like it's giving birth to a particularly large, ugly baby and Blair's beginning to feel slightly _afraid_.

How did she get herself into situations like these?

And Serena, the trouble-magnet who always dragged Blair into trouble, wasn't even _here_.

Blair wonders, briefly. She isn't sure if she would've _liked_ Serena along – Serena still wasn't talking to her because of some "bad" help she'd given – how was she to know that making Justin Finch-Fletchley, Serena's current boyfriend (or to be technical about it, current _ex-_boyfriend) jealous by bribing Lee Jordan to kiss her on the Quidditch Pitch would result in one very unhappy, very _single_ Serena van der Woodsen?

Up till last week she'd still thought a dumped, rejected Serena was an anomaly, an impossibility in the realm of the sane.

Blair huffs. Serena was utterly _ungrateful_. Even if the plan hadn't _exactly _worked out as planned, she was better off without him. Still, Serena isn't listening to her rational explanations and is refusing to talk to her. Over some buck-toothed, boring Hufflepuff who probably bought chocolates for everyone who walked over him like a doormat (Blair would know, she'd insulted him plenty and all he did was give her a box of Chocolate Frogs for Christmas before shuffling away in true Hufflepuff form. She'd wanted to put an Itching Spell on them and throw them at him, but Draco had been in the room at that time and she hadn't wanted him to think she was _unladylike_).

It was a shame – Blair would've liked the company. Most of the time she hates Serena as much as she loves her, and has trouble making up her mind which days are Love-Serena Days (when they confide in each other and hug) and which are Hate-Serena Days (when she's having a bad hair day and Serena just shines on as brightly as ever) but on days like this where the wind was blowing and the castle was _whispering_ creepily she would've really, really, really, really, _really_ liked the inane chatter and the beacon of fluffy golden hair to light up the dark.

A classroom door creaks as she passes it. Blair gulps and walks just a little faster. _Merlin, I'm going to _kill_ him_.

An owl hoots.

Blair grabs her wand in her pocket tightly and tries to recite all the spells she knows.

Ahead, a door creaks open.

"_Blair…._"

Blair shudders, but she remembers not to fear (she is a _Waldorf)_ and she jerks her head up defiantly at the voice issuing from the open door. "Hello?"

"_Blair_…"

Blair grits her teeth, raises her wand higher and advances toward the door. "Show yourself," she commands, trying to conceal the anxiety in her voice.

A pale hand shoots out of the door, clamps itself on Blair's arm, and quicker than a striking snake yanks her into the classroom. Another hand clamps itself on her mouth, stifling a scream, and a voice whispers in her ear, hot breath caressing her ear and making her shiver, "_Merlin._ It's just me, Blair, relax."

Blair relaxes, and she squirms around to face amused grey orbs. "I could _kill_ you," she huffs. "That…that trick was so _juvenile_ and showed poor breeding. Good Salazar, what has your mother _done_ with you? And that _gel_ honestly – have I taught you nothing about the wonders of Permanent Hair-Fixing Charms?"

His only response is to curl the corners of his very kissable lips, which only widens when Blair realizes that she is pressed very, _very_ close to the muscled form of Draco Malfoy.

"I missed you, Blair," he whispers.

Blair can't help but giggle coquettishly, batting her eyelashes at him. "Of course you did-" she's cut off with a gasp as she feels the hot breath on the back of her neck, sending chills down her spine. She whimpers even louder when warm lips follow. Her legs grow weak, and she just _might've_ fallen if not for the Quidditch-toned arms holding her up.

She feels the curve of his lips against her skin. "Eager, are we?" He asks huskily.

"Shut up and kiss me, Malfoy."

"Gladly."

The dim lighting makes it hard to see, but that's all immaterial anyway. She doesn't care about _anything_ as long as his lips met hers. The Dark Lord could be storming the castle with giants and centaurs and unicorns and dragons and Blast-Ended Skrewts and she wouldn't give a damn. Filch could be dancing with Mrs Norris in nothing but pink boxers and she wouldn't tear herself away. Dumbledore and McGonagall could be having old people sex right next to them and she wouldn't….. wait, _ew_.

Old people sex _would_ do the trick.

"Ugh," Blair groans and she pulls away.

He watches her, his gray eyes alight with amusement (and perhaps just a tinge of insecurity?) . "Something wrong?"

"No," Blair shakes her head, her curls bouncing before settling over the Slytherin crest. "I was thinking of unmentionable, forbidden, _taboo_ topics that would be even worse than borrowing clothes from Weasley for the International Magical Haute Couture Show." Blair takes a deep breath. "I think I've found the cure for incurable teenage hormonal horniness."

A single platinum-blond eyebrow is quirked. "Enlighten me."

"Old people sex. Specifically, Dumbledore and McGonagall."

"_Ugh_," Draco contorts his face in a sneer of disgust. "You just _had_ to put that image in my head, didn't you?"

"I'm telling you, there's something _unnatural_ in the way they look at each other. That look's not _allowed_ for people over sixty and especially for people who look like _them_-"

"Blair?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

And effectively, his lips does just that.

"_Draco_…"

"I've missed you, Blair." He whispers again, resting his forehead against her own, and Blair knows he means it.

"I don't see why you're so scared of telling your father," she leans away to pout at him. "It's not like I'm a _mudblood_ or some kind of _pauper_ or anything."

Draco sighs. "He just wants me to concentrate for my N.E.W.T.S., that's all. He wasn't too pleased with my O.W.L.S and he's afraid I'm going to muck up the family name. "

"That's ridiculous," Blair scoffs. "Your O.W.L.S weren't _that_ bad. Granted, I wish you'd have studied harder and got at least an Outstanding or two more, but it's certainly nowhere near the absymal standards of _Longbottom_."

"I know," his voice barely conceals impatience. "But it's just for another week or two, love, give it some time."

"But you'll tell everyone about us when your exams are over?" Blair's proud her voice contains nothing but the slightest tremor of anxiety, nothing to betray how she feels like she's teetering on the edge of the abyss and if he says a word wrong she'll just drop off.

"Of course I will," his face is serious as he studies her. "I'll introduce you to my parents, and they'll love you."

"You think so?"

"Certainly," he smiles down at her, and Blair thinks she's never seen a more gentle and beautiful Draco Malfoy before. "What's there not to love? You're a pureblood, with a respectable name. You're beautiful and one of the smartest I've ever known."

Blair stares at him. "But… I'm only a fourth-year," she whispers, hating her voice for the way it cracks, hating herself for letting him see her so vulnerable.

Draco studies her for a moment, before he leans over, and tips her chin up with a long, slender finger. "You're my _girlfriend_."

Blair smiles at him and throws herself into his arms and he buries his head in her hair.

_Maybe,_ she thinks, _just_ maybe_, she's going to get her fairytale after all._

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A/N Review please. Cookie?


	3. Seventh Year Pt 1

A/N Here's the next chapter. If you've noticed the change in the writing style, please don't hate me for it. I've got readers asking me if it's Blair/Tom or Blair/Dark-Lord-Draco (thank you for reviewing by the way!) I'll have to answer it's neither. At the moment, what I have in mind is Voldie as the Dark Lord and Blair/Draco. Don't hate me, Bellatrix/Rodolphus under the Dark Lord works fine in canon too!I may write a Blair/Tom in future but for right now I'm trying to complete my fics and maybe do a little Chloe (Smallville) crossover. '

Oh - I forget to mention Harry's Sixth Year never happened. Dumbledore is still alive, although he might not be for long - cackles-

Read and Review!

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**Seventh Year**

_i. Lucius Malfoy will start to realize the potential she holds, and will keep her in mind for the next batch of Initiates._

The Malfoy Mansion is lovely, every inch the glamor and elegance Blair has always wanted a future home to be. The architecture is intricate, and beautiful, and Blair knows how to appreciate 17th Century architecture when she sees one. Gorgeous paintings line the room – paintings Blair vaguely recognizes as having bid for in Magical Madame Cuthereis ' auction. Blair admires how the lines of the paintings skillfully writhe and dance on the parchment, the painted ladies sighing daintily.

She's sixteen going on seventeen now, and Draco's already working in the Ministry alongside his father. Blair's proud to have an older, _responsible_ boyfriend that doesn't just lie around watching past Quidditch games played debating whether the _Chudley _thing was better than the _Howler _thing or just lying around reading _Playwizard_ and growing fat, like Serena's older boyfriend Carter Baizen (who just _might_ have been cute three beers and seventy-four _Playwizard_s ago). Carter, unlike Draco, is just an _old_, saggy douchebag, which Blair helpfully points out to Serena every chance she gets.

Draco pulls her even closer to him, possessively drawing a hand around her waist, his lips grazing the side of her ear in a way he knows to make her shiver in his arms. As much as she denies it, Blair likes it that he knows her so well. "Remind me _why_ we're here again, love? We _could_ be dining in a five-star restaurant anywhere in the world, you know."

Blair rolls her eyes, even though she knows he can't see her, and makes use of this fact by allowing a small smile on her face. "Just because I've passed my Apparition test doesn't mean we have to bunnyhop all around the continent, Malfoy. Besides, you _know_ I'd love to meet your parents."

"It's my birthday." Draco grumbles.

Blair smirks and she can't help but reach up and kiss him. "Trust me, you'll get your present later."

"I'm counting on it." He smirks, but his stare is intense and Blair gulps because even though they've been dating since _forever_ she can't stop falling even deeper wherever she looks into those eyes.

They're broken apart by a discrete cough and Blair turns her head to see an elegant woman waltzing in. Draco holds her for a second longer to whisper, "Just be yourself, love" but Blair's already pasted an angelic smile on her face as she strides to meet his parent.

"You must be Blair," Draco's mother says, looking at her up and down. Blair knows she's internally critiquing her own appearance, but such is the custom for Pureblood families and it's not like she doesn't get evaluated everyday at home by her mother, so she's used to it. Even still, she smooths down her Eleanor Waldorf Original and hopes fervently that she doesn't look _fat _in it.

Apparently, she's passed the test because Narcissa breaks out in a radiant smile (Blair notes she looks much better when she smiles) and extends a hand, which she shakes dutifully. "I'm Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother. You must be Blair Waldorf, Draco's has said so much about you. Pardon me but…is that an _Eleanor Waldorf Original_?"

Blair throws her an angelically polite look she's perfected over the ages for sucking-up purposes and replies innocently that _yes_, it is; did she know that Eleanor was her mother?

In a short span of time, Narcissa's hooked and both of them know it. Blair glances from Narcissa's excitement(as much as a Pureblood wife can show) as she gushes about how beautiful Blair is, to Draco's smug smirk as he winks at Blair, and she knows she's just about got her claws into Narcissa for good – perhaps a little _push_?

_After all, enough isn't really enough when you can have more, is it?_

So Blair mentions offhandedly that her mother has two spare tickets for the International Magical Haute Couture Fashion Show, would Narcissa like to accompany her? All she gets is fervent nodding and Blair knows Narcissa whole-heartedly approves.

_One down, one to go._

Lucius Malfoy's hard to crack. Once it's apparent that Blair's beautiful and Pureblood he seems satisfied enough, but so reserved and distant and speaks so little Blair's finding it hard to engage him in proper conversation to show off her wits.

He doesn't _hate_ her, but Blair wants him to _love_ her.

Well not, love _love_ her (that'd be _icky_) but to love the idea of Draco and her together (as Narcissa seems to be).

They're seated at a dinner table and Blair's talking about all the things parents love to hear (school, grades, Purebloods) and though Narcissa is actively responding, Lucius is still silent and swirling his glass of wine and rubbing a spot on his left arm irritably (an itch?), and Draco is increasingly impatient at how _perfect_ she seems to be being and is moving a thumb in circles over her knee in an effort to get her to react.

She's hissing _stop molesting me, you oaf_ but Draco pretends not to hear and simply smiling at her as his thumbs glide over a sensitive spot on her knee and Blair tries her hardest not to kick him (because, really, what if she missed and hit his parents instead?)

She's halfway through the topic of why Charms is her favorite subject when Lucius suddenly speaks.

_"How would you ruin Harry Potter?"_

Narcissa stills suddenly, and Draco tenses up and his grip on her thigh tightens and his thumb stops moving. Blair blinks, unsure if she should answer _properly_ or answer _honestly_. It's a thin line between the two and she's not sure which way will have her burned.

"Harry Potter's just a boy," she finally says, smoothing out her dress to hide her fluster. "He's nothing, really. A stroke of good luck. A _lot_ of good luck, actually, considering how many scrapes he's got himself out of. Some people might say he only relies on luck rather than skill to get out of situations, and that his luck can only last him so far. But I disagree."

"You disagree?"

Lucius gaze is on her now, and Blair can't help but think this is where Draco got his gaze from – the gaze that burns holes in you when they're about to explode. She's not sure if it's a good or bad thing, but she's already got his attention so she should just as well continue.

"It's impossible for him to just get out of scrapes like those on pure luck. Going up against a group of highly trained professionals with years of experience in the Dark Arts, and winning every single time? That doesn't exactly qualify as luck." Blair takes a deep breath. If she's able to solve her 'puking problem', she can handle this. "I think it's his connections. He has somebody intelligent in the Mudblood Granger, who can't handle herself in a fight but is rather intelligent for solving problems that they run up against. He finds loyalty and warmth and support in the extensive family of the Weasleys, two of whom are inventors, one who works with dangerous creatures daily, another who is married to a Veela girl – hence broadening connections with _her_ Veela family – two of whom used to be Prefects and carrying enough influence with these positions and three of them as part of their House's Quidditch teams, lending them popularity within their House. And lastly, he is recognized and appreciated by Dumbledore, the school's headmaster."

Lucius is leaning forward now, his chin brushing the tip of his silver cane. "Pray continue."

Blair honestly cannot tell if he is offended, so she just swallows and tries to effect her conniving mind and past manipulations as best as she can. "If I _were _to ruin him, I'd take away his public image first. The public sees him as a figure to rally around, the source of You-Know-Who's defeat, someone who _must_ have extraordinary powers. If I was to corrupt that image – hints of him practicing Dark Magic , even simple things like cheating on Ginny Weasley with a slut, preferably someone associated with pureblood regimes, it would destroy the hype around him."

"And if you can't get any dirt on him?" Draco is the one who asks, his eyebrow raised but a smile on his knows her too well that if she decided to ruin Harry Potter, a Virgin Mary reputation wouldn't save him either.

Blair scoffs. "Impossible," she throws a sidelong look at Lucius. "But say, if that was the case, I'd use Dumbledore against him."

"Dumbledore?" Lucius echoes softly.

Blair shrugs. "Harry Potter is You-Know-Who's greatest adversary, and before Harry Potter there was Dumbledore - it makes sense that the public would seek to link the two by seeing them both as an extension of the same thing. At the same time, he's closely tied with Harry Potter, almost like an official guardian of him. He's the one who propagates most of the hype around him, fueling things that doesn't necessarily need to be fueled and absolving Harry of his sins that most students would have been punished just _thinking_ about. If any _hint_ that the relationship was unnatural… or that Dumbledore was associated with some _undesirable deeds_, both would bear the blunt."

She's got Lucius hooked now, and finally with his attention gained, she decides to throw in a bit more.

"And there's always the friends issue. If you want to see someone completely destroyed, turn _everyone_ against him. The public, his reputation, his relationship with Dumbledore, his relationship with Sirius Black, his relationship with his girlfriend and all his friends and the Weasleys – all of them have to go. It's particularly in the Gryffindor spirit, really – they all claim to be noble and daring, but truth is all of them need a friend in order to be noble and daring together, and they're horribly _sensitive_. I heard that Harry Potter cried himself to sleep when Cedric Diggory died – and they weren't even close."

Draco sniggered. "Where'd _you _hear that?"

Blair shrugs nonchalantly, spreading the tension a bit thicker before she caves in a produces a hot-pink Galleon her pocket. "Most of the popular girls have one," she says by way of explanation. " It's called a Gossip Girl coin. It's held by a Protean Charm so if anyone sees anything about anyone, they can just tap on it and mass-send out the blast. Very effective if you want to get the dirt on anybody, really."

Lucius stares at it greedily, so much that Blair's hand itches to retreat the coin back into the safety of her pocket. It was slightly discomfiting the way a grown, cultured man like Lucius Malfoy stared at something so _pink_. "Does it mention Harry Potter?"

"Frequently." Blair smirks. "That's how I figure somebody reporting the juicy details still manage to keep in touch with Harry Potter - I wouldn't know all the places he and Ginny have had sex in otherwise."

"Ugh," Draco said, looking slightly green.

Lucius stares at it for a second longer, before he glances upwards. "May I...mayI have one of these?" he asks, fingering the edge of the pink coin, as though afraid to grasp something so pink.

Blair smiles brilliantly at him. "Be my guest. I always carry an extra one with me just in case."

Lucius abruptly toasts her with his wine glass, and sweeps the coin into his pocket. He looks _lighter, _somehow; and happier and Blair has barely said a word in thanks for the dinner before he gets up and rushes out of the door, drawing out a black cloak and gripping his left arm as he leaves. Blair notes the worried looks Narcissa and Draco exchanges, but it's not her place so she doesn't say anything.

It's a week later before Blair reads that Rita Skeeter is considering publishing Dumbledore's biography with 'startling new insights' into the life of Albus Dumbledore.

Lucius starts to smile at her whenever she comes over for tea after that, and Blair's got the feeling that Gossip Girl might just have helped her win over Lucius Malfoy after all.

He, she notices, is no longer rubbing his left arm as furiously now.

* * *

**AN: **Sorry I only included one future scene, but I thought this scene was pretty long in comparison to all the other scenes and besides I think winning over Lucius is a pretty important step in the direction - not only in the direction of Blair/Draco but also Lucius as a Death Eater, aka introduction to Voldie is in store for Blair. Not so soon, though, she's only sixteen/seventeen.

I think Blair's a little OC in this, and I apologize. I know she shouldn't talk so much, then again if she's aiming to impress Lucius she would definitely go out all the way until she's sure she's got his approval. And Blair doesn't sound British, I know - but she's still a New Yorker through and through. Besides, I think Eleanor would _kill_ her if she got a Brit accent from Hogwarts.

R&R!


	4. Seventh Year Pt 2

AN Hey guys thanks so much for the reviews, they are **love**. I've written the next chapters, short as they are. I won't post the next one till I've written the _next_ one after that - that's how I stop myself from discontinuing the story, I hope. We're halfway there!

A repeat disclaimer: Since I already know where I'm going with the story, I think I should repeat that this is not going to be a fluffy story. The other fluffish bits (and yes, by my standards those _are _disgustingly fluffy) is because they're _teenagers_. Well they're growing up and it sure ain't gonna be bunnies and rainbows anymore. Voldemort does not give out candy, nor does he give out headbands. In order to make Blair realistic, some things will have to happen to change her mindset from Louis Vuitton to angry killing. Please don't flame because it has become too dark when I post that chapter up - it _will_ become rather dark.

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Seventh Year, Pt II

_ "And we'll linger on Time can't erase a feeling so strong"_

David Cook - Always Be My Baby_  
_

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_

_She will score 7 Os and 1 E for her NEWTS and will graduate valedictorian._

"….perhaps you've heard of the philosopher Plato. If you bother to trace back lineage – which I doubt many will except when you're trying to write a graduation speech -" Laughter. They were laughing. That was good, especially since she wanted them to laugh. "One of the Prewetts' earliest ancestors, I believe-" Bottles of Firewhiskey immediately shoot into the air; Heather and Ian Prewett cheering 'Hear, hear!" loudly.

Blair breathed in and out anxiously. She could _do_ this. She was a Waldorf.

More importantly, she wasn't just any Waldorf. She was _Blair_ Waldorf.

The name spoke for itself.

And Blair Waldorf was the one standing up, giving the valedictorian speech to the assembled masses of Hogwarts. Seven 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations' in her N.E.W.T.S – even _Eleanor_ couldn't find any fault with that, and even congratulated her with a complimentary Witchley Slimming Spa-Potion package for her "flabby thighs". But Eleanor doesn't bother her now – she hasn't bothered Blair in a long time – because tonight was her night.

Tonight was _the_ night.

."As he said, _the direction in which education starts a man will determine his future_. And right now, standing here before you looking out, I see witches and wizards with so much potential, ideally placed to learn more and out the knowledge and skills to amazing use. We will all grow up and get different jobs and lead different lives, but in the end, all of us, muggleborn and pureblood alike – we will all share the same memories. Memories of warmth and laughter, memories of a place we always felt so at home in. Hogwarts has its piece in every single one of our hearts. Every single one of us belongs to Hogwarts, we are part of it the same way it is a part of us now. It has shaped us and made us, and made us magical."

Blair's lost in her own world now. The faces of the crowd seem blurred now, and Blair's acutely aware of how her voice reverberates about the room with a well-placed _Sonorous _charm. She registers the brief people in the crowd – Serena leaning back with her long tan thighs proving a distraction to anybody in a five-seat radius (_strangely enough it doesn't bother her. She's got everyone else hooked to her speech anyway)_, Nate Archibald with his beautiful blue eyes as glassy as ever (_stoned on weed, again?)_. Dorota's in the front row listening intently. There's a few people in the audience that she recognises as the crème of Pureblood Society – probably as part of a propaganda-slash-recruitment scheme. Everybody knew the recruiters made up a quarter of the attendees on Hogwarts' Graduation Nights.

Only the plebeian would join, of course. _Blair_ already knew what she wanted, had wanted for a long time now. She wanted to be recognised. She wanted to be in the spotlight, adored and intelligent and beautiful.

And for the first time in a long while (a _very_ long while, she thinks), she feels exactly just like that. She's beautiful, she's floating and everybody just seems so far below.

"We are magical people now, and I can only hope we can continue to do magic and achieve equally magical results out of Hogwarts. Thank you."

Thunderous applause as the crowd stands up, and Blair's flushed with happiness and relief and just happiness, now – as she descends into a crowd of congratulatory pats on her back and cheers – rowdy as they may be it doesn't dampen the spreading of warmth in her chest (_has the ice-cold Queen melted, somehow_? _)_. She accepts Gryffindor Nelly Yuki's reluctant praise with old-world charm and elegance and poise (_stupid bitch would've been first if I hadn't taken an extra subject_). And her senses are alight with pleasure and happiness and everything just seems so fast and a million thoughts are crammed into her head (_time flies faster when you're enjoying yourself, eh B?_).

She wades through a million handshakes and soaks in the adoring gazes before Serena squeezes past a dowdy, pudgy witch with a shock of red hair and a brood of likewise flamehaired, pimply boys who wolfwhistle at her and throws herself in Blair's arms with a Serena-esque squeal. "Oh, _B_, that speech was wonderful!"

And Blair can't help but smile, even though this is the first time they're speaking to each other since Blair found out Serena had _flirted _with Draco when he had crashed a sleepover. But Blair's feeling magnanimous tonight and Serena already has another boyfriend (some famous Quidditch player from Bulgaria who looked like a crow) now anyway. She hugs Serena back and they're no longer enemies, just best friends.

Then Serena laughs and releases her and they gush about how great the night is for a while before Serena spots somebody else in the distance and she floats away dreamily. Blair lets her go – Serena's always been flighty like that. She turns briefly, sipping a martini and declining the eager recruiters, before she spots a familiar blond face in the audience with his parents, standing over next to Dorota and Roman and she hurries towards them.

His lips are on hers in a flash and his hands tangled in her curls (and everybody knows she doesn't let _anybody_ touch the curls) and he whispers into her mouth, "I _knew_ you could do it, love."

And his parents gather around to congratulate her, Narcissa with a hug and Lucius with an approving nod, as he tells her how much she is like a daughter to him (Blair catches a flash of hot pink as his fingers slip into his pocket). And as Blair thanks him graciously she can't help but think of her own father, dead in Parisian streets and her eyes fill with tears.

She hugs Roman and Dorota next (Eleanor's sorry but she's in Paris this weekend "opening a new boutique" – as if Blair doesn't know she's having sex with a pudgy bald _thing_ right now at her crowning moment) because they're family, even though one did marry her father and one's moved out since a new child arrived. She hasn't seen them in _ages_, and Roman makes her laugh so hard she cries again.

As much as Blair loves Hogwarts, she thinks it might be time for her to start growing up now. She glances up and catches Draco's eye and can't help but smile through her tears, as he grasps her hands and jerks his head towards the door, gray eyes full of mischief. _Let's get out of here_, he mouths and she nods, as Audrey Hepburn would do in this situation. He pulls her close and Blair grins against his shoulder as he weaves them throughout the crowd, because she knows that _finally_ the special moment is here. The place she can lose it all to.

And as he braces her for Side-Along Apparition (the wards have been lifted for this night), Blair glances back once to the home she's loved for the past seven years. Full of memories as she is, she knows Hogwarts will only ever be just a fragment of her life.

Besides, she'd only needed a year to conquer Hogwarts – tonight was just a cementing of victory. Blair's been ready, _aching_ for a new game to play (and win) six years ago, and she thinks she just might've found it.

She hears the world is a pretty good place to make her mark.

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A/N They're all growing up. Blair's getting rather ambitious, isn't she? But then again it's the Blair we know and love Some references to canon characters - anyone catch the Weasleys cameo? I figure that's an avenue of tying it in with canon. I just like doing these kind of unnecessary details. Bite me. By the way, what dyou think of Season 3 finale?

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	5. First Three Years

AN: **MISSING CHAPTER.**

Hey guys, I only recently just realised my story on and my Microsoft Word doc didn't tally, and it's because of this missing chapter! I didn't realise it because there are some edits and inserted scenes for future chapters and with all the ANs anyway that I figured nothing was wrong. I'm _really, really, super duper sorry_ about this missing chapter and I realise the story might not have made a lot of sense to some of you, and if not now it probably won't make sense in the later chapters. So here it is, that crafty, sneaky old snippet.

Enjoy!

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**First Year**

_Her father, will be murdered one night in his Paris home. Blair will only hear of his murder the next week, when the newspapers bear the headlines of his passing._

Blair only hears of his death the next week.

The term hasn't quite gotten into swing yet and she's still unpacking her fourth luggage when she goes down to the Great Hall for breakfast and the owls descend on her.

She manages to hex enough of them off that they reluctantly back off, watching her intensely as she swings a leg over and reads the newspaper first. She would have skipped it to the society pages as she usually does, but the swarm of owls hopping around the table with beady eyes fixed on her and letters tied to their legs make her stomach turn.

Once she's done untying all the letters, she gathers them up, slips a cranberry low-fat muffin on her plate and she returns to the common room. She's physically incapable of eating under the beady, unrelenting stare and she needs a place to throw up once she's done eating and the urge comes.

A few people are up already, most of them fifth-years or seventh-years feverishly studying for their exams. She's slightly discomfited; she's a first year in their eyes but she's still unused to being _ignored_; sits herself down at the plushest chair she can find and nibbles her muffin as she sets aside her stack of fan mail, opens the newspaper and scans the headlines as per her usual morning routine.

_DEFENSE ATTORNEY FOR MINISTER OF MAGIC MURDERED BY MUGGLEBORN THIEF._

She sees her father's picture and her mind goes numb.

The cranberry muffin falls from her hand and onto the floor, but Blair never really had the intention of eating it anyway.

The other letters are those from her father's associates and family friends expressing their condolences and all the other bullshit the human mind can think of, and a letter from Eleanor, and one from Roman.

She reads the letter from Roman and throws everything else in the common room fire.

She's proud to say she only cries _once_, and refuses to cry again.

Never again.

* * *

**Third Year**

_I. Blair will throw her energy into school, and run Slytherin house by the time she is thirteen. _

Blair's gotten to know a few schoolmates from the last pureblood ball, and she's not surprised that she's gained more than several followers since. She's used to being worshipped and followed around as a Waldorf should, but all the same she can't hide the tingle of pleasure that races down her spine when they raise their wands in unison and silently conjure matching headbands.

She doesn't speak, but her thoughts are almost tangible in the thick silence – a mocking, slow drawl that bids them to obey _her_. 

_Girls, you know what to do._

She watches as their black Hogwarts robes crinkle as they bend their heads down and the matching headbands glide into their hair, fixing itself between perfectly coiffed strands of hair. She takes in their humility as they lower their eyes, unwilling to meet her gaze, and Blair smiles.

The wand twitches in her hand and she feels the slow yet euphoric rush of power as she gazes at the bent forms.

For the first time, she feels like she can do _anything_.

* * *

_II. Older Fourth and Fifth Years will defer to her, and even the Sixth Years, who are preoccupied with preparation for their NEWTS, will admit she is beautiful and intriguing, and they too can't help but listen when she speaks._

Blair narrows her eyes at the beautiful third-year, who stares back at her with innocent, wide eyes. Blair isn't going to let her ruin everything, though. She's worked too hard for her empire (an empire it was; she's ruling the entire Slytherin House under the age of fourteen and a quarter of the fifth years) to fall apart now, especially because of the likes of _her_.

Serena hesitates and squirms in her robes uncomfortably. She'd thought Blair would've been _pleased_ to see her. "B?"

Blair glares at her. "What are you doing here? Beauxbatons' not good enough for you? Then again, you've always wanted what I had, didn't you?"

"B, what's gotten into you?" Serena asks, tenderly placing a hand on her arm, which Blair violently shrugs away. She doesn't hide the hurt in her eyes as she gazes at the pretty brunette dressed in green and silver. "I thought we were friends."

And Blair looks up and Serena freezes despite herself because every vein in her body seems to have stopped cold.

"That was before I found out you hooked up with Nate after I left."

Serena sucks in a breath and stares at Blair, but her answering stare has been iced and glazed over and so frozen Serena doesn't doubt it'll take more than kind words and an ice pick to chip the ice away. "B, I'm sorry-"

"Just. Leave."

And so Serena does, but only because she knows if she stays she'll only be making things worse.

Blair stares after her ex-best-friend-since-forever, and snaps her gaze back to her posse, as they dutifully lower their eyes and instinctively huddle a little closer the way they always in preparation for a Plot. "Girls, you know what to do." She purrs, and watches they smile in excitement.

Across the room, Blaise Zabini elbows Theodore Nott. The latter glances up dazedly from scrawling out his lengthy Charms essay. "I pity Blondie over there," he whispers with his gaze on the drama unfolding in the midst of the Great Hall. "She _is_ kinda cute."

Theodore snorts. "I'd rather have Waldorf." He watches Blondie walk away back toward the Hufflepuff table, her eyes expressively sad and her blond hair flighty in the afternoon wind, beautiful like a forest nymph, with the sad, dejected airs only a Hufflepuff can project. He glances at Blair Waldorf, her posse huddled around her as usual, her dark eyes glinting with fiery excitement and cold calculation as she watches the girl walk away, light blond hair trailing behind her. Even at thirteen –and he was risking sounding like a pedophile here - she was _hot_.

"I'm betting ten Galleons on Waldorf."

Blaise sneers. "I'm not stupid enough to go against _that_," he protests. "What'd you think, Draco? Care to make a friendly little bet?"

Draco Malfoy doesn't once look up from the lengthy parchment he's writing to his father, and instead reaches a hand over to tuck it from the inquisitive gazes of his friends. "Bugger off, Zabini." he snaps irritably.

Blaise smirks and glances at Theodore. "Told you."

* * *

Review?


	6. Post Hogwarts Two Years After

Hey guys. Did you miss me? (Fingers crossed that I haven't lost your attention to this story by now). I've actually written this long before, it's just that I kept adding in chapters and new events in between the original timeline that I feel I _might _have deviated from the original plot. Don't worry, though. I'm trying to get back on track while dealing with the Draco/Blair relationship. Anyway, the next two chapters are gonna be _pretty _long (yes, that was the long chapters I promised from two or so chapters ago) and I'm really going on empty right now, what with the projects and assignments. My national exam (Chinese) is going to be in three months, and my other national exams -equivalent in six weeks.

I'll try my best, but no promises on the next chapter. I've got it half written out if that's any consolation.

Anyway, I really hate plugging but if you want to read another Pureblood!Blair/Draco fic go to my other fic _Jigsaw_. I'm really proud of the work, and some might say its a little dark but I don't see it that way at all. In fact, I'm really pretty proud of it so if you want to see my direction as a writer (and to decide if you should continue reading my fics or not) you should probably go read that.

On with the chapter. Read and review.

* * *

**Post-Hogwarts (The First Two Years)  
**

_High off of love, drunk from my hate,_  
_It's like I'm huffing paint and I love it the more I suffer, I suffocate_  
_And right before I'm about to drown, she resuscitates me_

Love the Way You Lie – Eminem ft. Rihanna

* * *

_I. She will break up with Draco Malfoy to work in America as a Defense Attorney._

"I can't believe you're doing this."

"Draco, it's for the best."

"For _who_?"

"For both of us -" her breath catches at the intensity of those gray eyes of him, so deep and intense it promises her everything in the world and the inevitability of drowning her in their depths. She blinks and looks away. "I can't _do_ this, Draco. You're important to me, but you've become so distant lately. I don't see you around, we haven't even had _sex _in four months because you're always working till late at night and you're too tired and _injured_ in the morning and _I _can't deal with you having an affair right now – I too frazzled to even help Chuck Bass devise a _take down_ - especially with my job interview coming up."

Those gray eyes blink. "Job interview?"

"Department of Magical Counsel and Defence of the American Ministry of Magic . And I'm most likely to get the job, seeing that the employees there are able to enjoy their very own_ vineyard_ thanks to the generous contributions of my great-grandfather. Well, that and the fact that my father used to _run_ the department." Blair sniffs as she turns her back on him, "And I would've told you much sooner about the job offer but considering the fact that _you've been cheating on me_-"

Draco looked properly confused. Wondering about how she knew about his oh-so-secret affair, more like.

"What the hell are you talking about, woman?"

"I'm talking about _cheating_, Draco! An _affair. _With an inbred Muggle savage, no doubt, judging from the scratch marks and love bites I see all over you-"

"What a load of dung," he interrupts her harshly, grabbing a shoulder and roughly spinning her around to face him.

Her head swings up and matches his ire with her fire."_What_ did you say, Malfoy?"

"I said, that's a load of dung. That's not the real reason you're breaking up with me, you're just using it as an excuse, a cover up; looking for an easy way out to pin the blame on me like you always do so you can assuage whatever's left of your conscience."

"Oh?" Blair lifts a manicured eyebrow, but her voice is slightly shriller than normal and that's the only sign of a verge of lapse of control.

"You're just scared that I'd have convinced you _not_ to go."

The bold declaration hangs in the air between them, and fades into nothing as the silence drowns it out.

Blair turns away so he doesn't see the lone tear trickling down the side of her face. "Believe what you want, Malfoy. Believe that the problem doesn't lie with you going behind my back. But I don't give a care in the world about over-gelled, sneaky, cheating _ferrets_ such as yourself now. I'm going."

She knows she's hit him hard with the ferret comment – something he'd confessed to her as one of the most humiliating moments in his life. Then again, he deserved it – and so much more. _Ferret_ didn't even begin to cover the hurt _she_ feels inside, her heart tearing apart under a perfectly composed exterior. Still, she can't deny the gnawing feeling inside her that wonders if it just might be too late to apologize and take the comment back. But as usual her pride protests, and in the end her tongue is too numb and leaden to shape the words _I'm sorry_ at him.

She turns around sharply, and the hand on her shoulder drops as she walks away.

She pauses at the doorway, hoping for something – _anything _– for him to deny the affair, but he doesn't say anything.

So Blair keeps walking.

She only lets the tears fall when she's sure he isn't running after her.

* * *

_II. She will understand she cannot begin to live without Draco Malfoy._

The lighting is romantic, low-lit with magically-sparked candles flickering in the atmosphere charmed to play soothing melodies and a five-course meal gingerly prepared on gold-plated _plates._ There's only the slightest hint of a shadow as restaurant elves scurry back and forth, snapping their fingers to clear the plates, levitating the next course forward, and collecting the Galleons carelessly flicked over shoulders with every service they perform.

Blair glances around idly, as her finger lazily circles the tip of the glass as it has so many times before. Marcus Beaton is seated opposite her, and truth be told, he was a _catch._ He was beautiful, no doubt about that, an esteemed Academy graduate, descended from one of the oldest Pureblood lines, _and _to top it all off was an English Lord-of-something-or-the-other to boot.

Really, he was the perfect, ideal male that Blair had always made it clear she wanted to marry one day.

If only he wasn't so _boring._

Still, appearances must be maintained, and so Blair grins a dazzling grin at him as she laughs at something he just said (she's not quite sure on the details, some dry joke about a Hog and a witch in a bar) as she taps the rim of her goblet with a long, manicured nail and wonders if she's finished the next stack of paperwork for the Orson case yet. Really, the case didn't even need to be settled within court - it was _that_ ridiculously simple to solve, but the Orsons were rich and well, who was she to turn away a wanting customer? If only she could find a loop to throw at them so they'd engage her services for longer.

"And Mother said that my business plan _does _have its merits, after all. I told you she'd finally come around to the long-term benefits this held, but of course. Mother's always been one to see sense, she's rather clever that way you know. Aand when you count into play how the Goblins are likely to see it…."

Blair swishes the elf-made wine in the goblet delicately. _Why_ was she doing this again?

_He's a Lord. A _Lord.

And why settle for being Queen of the Upper East Side when you could be a Duchess?

"And now that you remind me, Mother also mentioned the cost benefits of adding another sector into the business. It's a tad sketchy at the moment, naturally, but I'm confident that with time this would be a _very _good deal indeed…"

"Indeed," Blair murmurs, but her gaze is drawn by a sudden moment from behind Marcus's shoulder.

A tall woman stood in robes that Blair couldn't quite make out. Strange – Blair had memorized the _entire _catalogue of the upper range that Warloca stocked. It was possible, however, that the cloak was of a foreign-brand and was imported – but Blair didn't recognize the fabric as used for high-end design.

What was a witch in _old, black_ dress robes doing in a place like _this_?

However, try as she might, Blair couldn't summon forth the expected surge of disgust at the plain show of peasantry. Blair was drawn by how breathtaking and utterly _imposing_ the woman looked in those cheap robes. She certainly wasn't the conventional, Serena-esque type of beauty – her features were too handsome for that, and the firelight flickered on gaunt cheekbones to cast a shadow over her heavily lidded eyes. Her thin lips were drawn in a snarl, as she seemed to argue heatedly with her companion, a handsome, broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed blond man who looked remarkably like a certain Draco Mal-

Wait.

It _was _Draco.

What the hell was he doing here? The last time she'd heard about him from _Gossip Girl _he'd been partying away in Milan with some ridiculously beautiful Veelas in very, very short dress robes. Veelas with blond hair and blue eyes and legs that went on forever that looked _suspiciously _like somebody she knew - but Blair knew for the fact that the person in question was half in love with a muggleborn that had been in Ravenclaw in their year called Daniel Somethingsomething. (Well, at this point they were _fully _in love, but it was probably because they'd just recovered from being _out _of love for the sixth time.)

Blair's gaze flickers to the man opposite her, happily nattering away about his boring life to his Golden Plimplies soup. He hasn't once looked up at her from his meal, and as much as Blair loathes it (normally), she can't help but think Fate was being rather considerate to arrange such a fortuitous meeting just for her to tell Malfoy to _stop_ _stalking_ her.

Blair tries to tear her gaze away from the couple, but it's hard to – her eyes stay glued to the platinum blond hair out of sheer habit, and the table linen is involuntarily fisted as the woman ducks her head just a _little _closer to Malfoy. Who the hell did she think she was? Whoever this woman was, it didn't matter – _she _was Blair Waldorf and Draco was _hers_ damn it –

No. Draco wasn't hers any longer.

Even if nothing ever really left a Waldorf's possession, he still wouldn't be hers to lean on, or watch old Muggle reruns with (although he used to think it was positively _repulsive _to have a shared entertainment with Muggles, he always watched them with her anyway). He still wouldn't be hers to stare at when he was asleep on her bed, or hers to kiss senseless or touch or to dress provocatively to just to tease.

Blair stares at the beautiful (–no, she corrects herself. People like Serena were beautiful, girls like Blair were pretty, _women _like that two-bit whore in the unassuming Muggle J. cloak were more _handsome_ than anything else–) woman sharing a small conspiratorial smirk with Draco.

She watches the woman - her eyes gleaming almost maniacally and yet somehow _hypnotically_ (the same way Blair's always wished for her eyes to) illuminated in the firelight, her slender neck thrown back in a throaty laugh, and her heart of stone breaks a little bit more. She remembers how Draco was so distracted, his little hushed conversations with people he would never let her know about, and how he'd always flinched away from her gently touching him in the day and yet make love to her so _hard _in the dark that she'd often wondered if it was because he couldn't stand to look at her –

Draco's been with _many _women after their break up, but this is the first she's seeing in the flesh abd they actually look like they're having a decent conversation instead of playing Tongue Bludger and she can't help the thought that flits through her mind.

_Was this the woman whom he'd fucked around her with?_

There's a surge of unbidden emotion, and she feels the magic rise out from nowhere. Her glass shatters, and Marcus breaks off in his monologue to look up startled, as if unaware that he'd been sharing the table with another all the while.

"Blair, darling? Are you all right?"

The privacy that the restaurant has always exuded is shattered now, and the whole restaurant is looking curiously at the Waldorf heir. Blair grits her teeth and looks down, utterly humiliated. She's never had accidental magic – _ever. _Not even when she was a child – Eleanor had always been proud of her daughter's prodigious control over her magic.

"I'm fine, _Marcus._" The restaurant has resumed its private conversations, but she still doesn't dare to look over, but she knows the feeling of the weight of his gaze on her back. _I'm not hallucinating. Trust Draco to stalk me and screw up my date ._For all she knew, he could have cast a spell to shatter the glass.

"You know what, darling? I'm afraid I may have to powder my nose." She kisses him briefly on the cheek, more for Draco's' benefit than for the both of them.

She gets up without waiting for his response and marches past the oblivious people, turning briefly to ensure he's not looking after her. He's already resumed eating his meal. Figures.

That doesn't stop her, though. Blair's on a tirade and be _damned _if she let her spoiled ex ruin her perfect date (she refuses to think about how confronting her ex about ruining her date seems to be _only_ the highlight of the date)

Ire rises as she sees them about to kiss, their heads together and whispering some lover's secret. Her stomach turns painfully (much like the sensation she gets when she's kneeling in front of a porcelain bowl and thinking how pretty Serena looked in a dress she couldn't fit in). He dared to ruin her date, and then act all chummy with his, as if nothing was wrong? Well, she'd show him what she thought of it.

Blair reaches his table and slams a perfectly manicured hand down, noting with muted glee that the action forced their heads to spring apart.

"_You._" She seethes.

Draco raises his eyebrows at her. Blair scowls; it _hurts_ to see him looking even better than before. "Nice to see you too, Waldorf," he drawls.

"Cut the gabbling down, Malfoy. Your pretense stinks as bad as your overused cologne – which by the way, is _way _last season. Not that you'd know anything about it, if you're mismatched socks are anything to go by. I swear you had better fashion sense when we were in Hogwarts wearing a _uniform_.And I'd like to tell you to stop stalking me. My date – who is a _lord_, by the way – doesn't really appreciate you looking at his true love in _that _way."

The woman throws her head back and screeches in laughter, causing a few patrons to look over and Blair's face to flush slightly.

"Draco? _Stalking? _A chit like _you_?"

_Waldorfs don't lose composure. Waldorf's never lose composure,_ Blair chants almost maniacally in her head, although she would like nothing more to rip the smug look off both of their faces. She takes a deep breath and draws on the Queen B persona.

"Don't deny it. You're obviously so cut up about the entire break up that you refuse to come to terms with it – which is perfectly normal, I assure you, losing someone like _me _as a girlfriend would be terribly traumatizing for anyone – and so you have to debase yourself to less than honorary means by skulking in the shadows and observing my dates with other handsome, rich bachelors."

Blair smiles, but it's fake. The words, although delivered with the same poison and ridicule, somehow seems so _juvenile _in this elegant setting. She's never felt more _dress-up_ in her scarlet Miss Tsurfania dress robes before.

Draco has apparently picked up on it to (_damn _how he knew her so well), sneering. "You know, it's funny how after you break up with me, _you're _the one who can't seem to move on. I did." He's interrupted by the woman, who flashes a coy smile of pure _sex_ back at him and purrs a little. Draco smirks at her, the smirk _they_ used to share, and Blair can only watch numbly as Draco turns back to her, eyes dark with derision.

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Blair. You're no longer any concern to me. Grow up."

_Grow up_.

Blair stares numbly. She's been called a lot of names before – _witch manipulative bitch fashion hag ice queen airhead stupid worthless nothing fat –_ but nothing has ever struck her so deep.

_Grow up._

Blair had loved Draco unconditionally for five years and that was all he'd thought of her as? Did they really mean so little? Was the heart dangling from his jacket coat nothing but a worthless trinket, a little trophy meant to mock their relationship?

Try as she might, Blair couldn't stop the wet burn in her eyes.

Once again, she can't deny she's let her fantasy of a white knight pursuing her on an equally handsome steed delude her again. How could she have been so stupid to trust that Draco had cared enough to want her back? She'd heard all about his conquests, his many exploits – did she even know enough about him to be certain that he hadn't been cheating on her this whole time, while laughing at her naivety, _robbing _her of her virginity…?

"Aw, does the widdle baby want to cwy?" the woman mocked.

Blair stares as she reaches over to run a long finger down Draco's sculpted cheekbone, nibbling on his ear as she sneers up at her. "See, Draco here has _me_, now. Why would he take you?" She breathes huskily.

She smiles at Draco.

Another smile of pure oestrogen and sex.

Blair turns and walks away from the table. She's speechless, and it takes all of her willpower not to snatch her purse from Marcus's table and Floo home so she can cry the Valgabini out from under her eyes. But people are beginning to stare, and Blair's already tarnished her reputation for the evening. So she slips on a cold façade worthy of the Queen of the Upper Pureblood Society, and goes to the bathroom.

It takes twenty minutes of puking for her to feel skinny again.

Even if a part of her feels hollow inside, she keeps her chin up and the defiant glimmer in her eyes as she saunters past his table. Or at least, the table he used to occupy – he's already left when she returns from the bathroom.

Blair slides back into her seat. "Hi," she says breezily in a manner that Audrey would have been proud of, "Sorry I took so long."

Marcus looks up from tapping a message through with his wand, and his blue eyes crinkle attractively behind his glasses. "It's no matter," he says. "I hardly noticed you were gone anyway."

Blair's glittering smile falters a little, before she leans forward and grasps his face in her hands. "It was sweet of you to wait anyway," Blair coos, more for her benefit than his, as she leans over and kisses him hard.

His kisses are slow and hesitant, almost as if he's confused with the aggressive Blair as compared to the meek, polite witch he's known throughout the course of their dating. He fumbles a bit, but gradually starts to kiss back. But his kisses are too sloppy, too weak for her to feel anything. She needs the feel of her lips to be crushed by kisses, for her whole body to be consumed and held by strong arms, to be passionately yet gently loved at the same time. She needs for his hands to tangle in her perfect locks, so she can snap at him for messing it up after even though she loves him all the more for it.

Marcus doesn't do that for her. He doesn't fill the aching need creeping up from the apex of her thighs to her heart.

Blair can't imagine spending a lifetime with him.

But he's a lord, and she's _not _heartbroken, and she _loves _him (really, she does, why else would she have gone out on so many dates with him?). So she grabs his head and twines her fingers around dark locks (she notes absently that they're not the right color) and kisses him so hard their teeth knocks together, and tries her best to ignore the muffled "ow".

She's not trying to prove anything to anyone.

Really.

* * *

Review?


	7. Chapter 7

AN Okay, sorry guys for the extremely long wait. Originally I uploaded this mini-chapter a month or so back, but then failed me at the very last second after I was done with everything - Murphy's Law, you know how it goes. Anyway I couldn't retype it out because of EOYs and a Chinese O-level which I'm pretty sure I flunked. Chinese has never really been my strong point. Anyway, here's a _miniteaserchapter _and God I wish it could be longer, but this is going into a bit of the legal system and me not even having graduated past the pre-U stage yet, is anybody willing to help me with some law issues?

Also, (I'm really sorry for the long AN, I feel like I'm ripping you guys off) I'm a little disappointed that most(?) didn't seem to get the Harry Potter character reference in the last chapter - not that it matters, it's something I'll address in the later issues anyway. I get the feeling like I'm not putting across all the vague themes or ideas across to the readership as much as I'd like or intended to - please give me the feedback if you understand (or don't) with what's going on. Anyway, read and review guys!

* * *

**Post-Hogwarts (The Next Two Years)**

_And he doesn't know just how far I would go_  
_ Just to kiss him_  
_ He doesn't doesn't know I pine_  
_ So I make whirlpools_  
_ And watch him sparkle_  
_ And we'll make love make magic_

_-Starry Eyed,_ Ellie Goulding

* * *

The office was noticeably quiet, as all sane people tended to do on _that day_. It was _that day_ when their boss Blair Waldorf would come in dressed (more so than usual) sexily-as-you-please, with full red lips and tight skirts and a bow on a finger instead of on her hair. It would be when Blair Waldorf's posture would be straighter than usual, more tightly-wound than ever (_anal_, as Michael Corner helpfully put it before Ms. Waldorf got wind of it and he was sent packing the next day) ; and yet her eyes redder as if she'd been crying (what a ridiculous thought. Waldorfs, especially one such as her, never cried).

More men would leer at her trading Miss Selwitch dress robes and Warloca Witchblazers for Muggle-ish tight pencil skirts and unadorned blouses (making the men of the office _very _appreciative of the Muggles and their sort of clothing), but they would be whiplashed away by her biting wit and acidic tongue that tended to be more violent on _this day_. Where she would nitpick at every detail, and generally spread as much misery and violent cheer around the office as best as she could.

This was what Jenny understood, being relatively new to the office. Blair Waldorf had hired her straight out of Ammadia's Magical Institution for Girls, as an intern to the prestigious firm after Serena (Jenny's half-_sister_) had helped her pull some strings.

Jenny had never really cared for being a Magical Counsel and Defense Attorney (she could never really figure out why they couldn't just be called _lawyers_); she'd rather be in fashion but Madam Maulkin had rejected her and Rufus had wanted her here anyway.

That being said, even _Jenny_ knew the Rule of this day, and this was only her first year here.

Just then, a girl with long red hair throws the door open, chest heaving as she gasps dramatically. "She's _here_!" she exclaims, and there's a collective intake of breath as the whole office simultaneously pull out folders and stacks of paper and ruffle them and generally attempt to look extremely engrossed in the paperwork.

There's the distinct _click-clock_ of Louboutin heels as Blair Waldorf turns the corner. She's dressed immaculately as always, but Jenny manages to discern the change that everyone has cautioned her as a symptom of extreme _bitchiness_. Her lips are painted bright red instead of the usual nude or peach, and her eyes narrowed into feline slits and spitting fire (more than usual) and a scowl fixed on her face.

Jenny is reminded of the show she'd loved to watch in Brooklyn, before the Wizarding World and all of its magic caught up with her. _The Devil Wears Prada_, indeed.

She slams the door to the office open and strides past Jenny without a word of hello. Unsure, Jenny stares uncertainly at her swaying pencil skirt-clad backside as Blair half-sashays, half-storms away in six-inch heels in the fashion that only Blair Waldorf can manage without looking like a raving drunk. "_Honestly _Jenny, is the Brooklyn mind exceptionally impaired today? Keep up, I don't have all day!" she snarls without looking back, and Jenny finally understands what her co-workers are so afraid of.

Jenny hurries to keep pace with Blair Waldorf – a comical sight given Jenny's long legs failing to keep pace with the shorter woman in front.

"Good morning, Ms. Waldorf. Um, your schedule for today…"

Jenny tries to hand it to Blair as she always does, but Blair ignores the outstretched memo and keeps walking.

"_Read it out_, Humphrey, you're being exceptionally dense today. I hire secretaries for a reason – it may surprise you that I don't just hire secretaries just to appease the social stereotypes to wear ugly skirts and to be eye candy to appease the older male customers."

Jenny blinks. Wow. Harsh, even for Blair.

"Right! Um…" she fumbles a bit with the long list. "Well, you have a meeting with Patricia Bode in half an hour. You'll be discussing if there's any profit to be made from suing St. Mungo's for negligence instead of settling it privately."

"Ah. The case where a _plant_ is the suspected killer. The day when a trained Healer, who works with herbs every day, fails to recognize one of the deadliest magical plants in the world - the world is never without its own sense of humor, I suppose." Blair's voice is cool and detached, with the slightest hint of amusement at the man's death. "Give James the file on it and tell him to meet me in the office in twenty minutes."

Jenny scribbles down the note rather gleefully, muttering the charm as the memo sprouts wings and flies down the hall back to the office. James would be receiving the note and would be groaning at this moment – he'd just gloated in front of Jenny about being out of Blair's way today.

"Colin Madaras is scheduled to meet you at noon. It's about the Marianna Madaras case." At Blair's sharp, questioning look that reminds Jenny so much of _Eleanor _(when Jenny dropped out of school to work for her before realizing Eleanor Waldorf was a Class-A Bitch, even more so than Blair) Jenny falters and she has to consult the papers again. "She allegedly murdered her two children in their summer home, as well as an elderly Muggle neighbor who witnessed it all. She claims the Imperius."

Blair sneers. "_Imperius_. Is that all?"

"Serena van der Woodsen said she might drop by."

"Tell her not until after eight."

Jenny nods and scribbles a note to Owl Serena, before she blinks as a Paper Owl similar to the one she'd just sent off rocketed towards them. Catching it and unfolding it, she looks down at the note, where scrawls were appearing as though an invisible hand was writing it.

"Um, Ms Waldorf? Martha's currently writing in a new appointment." She watches as ink underlined the appointment twice and an 'Urgent!' appeared, rather unnecessarily, at the side of the note."She says it's urgent."

"Tell whoever it is that I'm busy today."

Jenny just kept talking over her, eyes wide as she scans the note. Whoa – this was _big. _ "It says somebody wants to meet you at three o'clock as a _Defense_ Attorney for an overruling of an Azkaban sentence. It specified _you_, Ms. Waldorf."

There's a hint of interest of Blair's eyes, but she quickly blinks it away before her eyes freezes over in ice. "Then, Jenny perhaps you might _consider_ the need to convey my deepest, sincerest apologies to, ah…."

"Malfoy," Jenny says eagerly, happy that Blair's finally going away and _hopefully _leaving her alone for the rest of the day. "It's signed by a Mr. Draco Malfoy."

Silence.

Jenny's almost afraid to breathe as she ducks her head down. She should have stopped while she could have.

_Damn it, Jenny._ _You and your big mouth._

The silence drags on longer.

Jenny waits.

Blair Waldorf still doesn't say anything, and Jenny's too afraid to look up.

"Um, Ms. Waldorf?" she ventures cautiously, attempting to peer out to gauge Blair's reaction through her mane of blond frizz. "Should I give an affirmative?"

Silence.

Jenny tentatively raises her head, but Blair's gone.

There's only the echo of a door slamming violently at the end of the hallway.

Jenny winces.

"_Ouch_."

* * *

Blair/Draco interaction for the next scene. If all goes well, the interaction will actually be interesting.

Review!


	8. Post Hogwarts Two Years After, Pt II

AN: Hi guys, it's me again. I know it's been ages, but I was just looking through my old stories and realised there's actually some updates that I haven't posted, so I thought, why not? Personally I dislike this chapter - I can't help but feel it's disjointed, like bones and fats without the muscle. I'll do some re-touching on this later on.

Anyway, I'm really, really embarrassed to say this but as Ms-Evie pointed out, the song lyrics of last chapter were not of Starry-Eyed by Ellie Goulding - it's Your Song by Kate Walsh. I got the titles wrong by mistake because Starry Eyed was supposed to be the song but I changed it at the last minute. Anyway, this is the filler chapter before all the shit goes down (I'm already preparing for the hate for what I'm going to do next chapter). Consider it a brief lightheartedness before the depressing stuff comes in.

* * *

**Post-Hogwarts (The Next Two Years)_, _Pt II._  
_**

_We were inches away_  
_ More like miles apart_  
_ And all the unspoken to wall up our hearts_  
_ An infinite distance, a line in the ground_  
_ Did we travel this far just to turn back around?_

_One Afternoon (We Mapped The World)_ - Joy Williams

* * *

It's one of _those_ days where Blair just feels like the whole world is against her. Well, she should have figured the _world_ might've taken it rather personally when Blair decided to take it on, but still…this was just cruel. All she wanted to do was lock the door to her office, pour herself a glass of Chantebelle elf-brewed wine imported from villas in France, think about the thing – the _person_ she'd lost two years ago, go out and be a huge bitch to everybody, and then cry about it with Serena over drinks later.

It'd become a sort of ritual, really.

If there was one thing that Blair was not expecting to hear about on _this _day, it was that the one and only Draco Malfoy, the subject of her unexplainable bitchy behavior, would show up on her own marble doorstep asking for _her_ help.

Not that she missed him. Definitely not.

How could she even miss him when _he'd_ made sure never to miss her?

She didn't need to read the _Daily Planet_'s Page Six to find out how many heiresses he'd slept with after their breakup, or how he had a torrid affair with one of the Warbling Sisters' cousin's best friend's daughter or something like that. She especially didn't need to see his name blaring across the tabloids reporting how he had two-timed an International Quidditch player's _wife_ with an opposing Quidditch team player's _daughter. _Malfoy was a manwhore. A manwhore with probably a few Muggle STDs (apparently, the pureblood that he was didn't discriminate when it came to one-nighters) and who thought a broomstick was a decent fashion accessory.

And she certainly didn't need the incessant heat in her pocket every time _Gossip Girl_ had a new blast on Malfoy (she seemed to be more interested in him than Harry now), always catching wind of the affairs long before the tabloids caught on. And Blair had never before so bitterly regretted giving the coin to Lucius Malfoy – who was more than probably acutely aware of what a man-slut his son was. Or had Lucius Malfoy just congratulated his son on his exploits and his "moving on" from their relationship?

And Blair had finally given in and given up on Draco Malfoy (the teeny, _weensy_ bit of her that had wanted Draco to fight for her) and tossed her obscenely pink coin in the trash. There had been only so many phrasings and puns on _D's got himself a brand new squeeze _she could take, and Blair liked to think she deserved a little bit more.

Even if Draco Malfoy had been her whole world.

And so, while Draco Malfoy marked another notch on his bedpost, Blair was marking another notch into the wood of the ladder that would take her straight up the corporate ladder.

It was only _two _years and her influence and breeding already had gotten her a position, and it wasn't long before her intelligence and _persuasion_ (other people might call _manipulation_, but Blair begs to differ) pulled her up even more.

An up-and-rising lawyer at the Baizen & Rose Firm, Blair's already made associate and she's pretty sure that in a couple of years she'd make partner.

She hasn't sworn off _dating _(whoever would remind her to feed her owl and carry all her shopping bags otherwise?) and she's definitely not going to be an old maid. She's already dated Chuck Bass (pretty good while it lasted; before all the passion sizzled out) and she's trying hard as hell to stay out of Carter Baizen's way. He would help her immensely as a boyfriend, but she doesn't need him when it's over and him as an _ex_-boyfriend screwing up her career just because his grandfather (or great-great grandfather, whichever) owns the damn firm.

Blair's got her goal in mind, and the whole world be damned as long as she got it in the end.

Blair sighs. She's tempted to send some halfwit lawyer to meet Malfoy in her place, but she knows Malfoy will just come back over and over again and use his name to scare all other lawyers away until he gets to consult her. Because try as she might, Blair had the Malfoy motto deeply ingrained in her heart – always, _always_ get the best and never settle for second.

It was eerily similar to the Waldorf's.

Sighing, Blair taps her wand, checking the time as red sparks fly across the air.

_8:49_.

Just enough time for her to grab a drink and a new set of clothes (she couldn't meet clients as Pureblood-oriented and _influential_ as the Malfoys in Muggle attire, could she?) And for such a high-profile case as this, it _would_ be good to do a quick background research. Just in case.

Against her will, a tiny, niggling thought blossoms in her mind: is she getting _dressed up, _just because of the attendance of a certain Draco Malfoy? After all, it would be the first time seeing him in person after two years….

Blair stands abruptly, grabs her coat and wand and makes for the door, shaking her head to banish the thought away.

What an utterly _ridiculous_ thought.

Strangely enough, Lucius Malfoy's appearance was the first thing she'd noticed when she'd swept into the room. It was like that of the first time she'd been introduced to him in the Malfoy Manor – his skin was sallow and drawn, as though he had not been sleeping well. To further emphasize this point, his eyebags were prominent and the lustrous, golden hair he'd boasted of was now lank.

To think Azkaban could do this to the handsome man in just a week.

His wife was beside him. Although she was still beautiful, her narrower face suggested some weight loss and she was no longer glowingas she so often did, as she held her husband's hand and whispered soothingly to him.

"Mr and Mrs Malfoy, it's a pleasure to see you again." Blair murmurs, trying to keep a composed front as she strode into the room, trying to shake off the horrible gauntness Lucius Malfoy , the man she'd privately thought of as a second – well _third_ including Roman– father to her. She turned around, meeting the cool grey eyes of the person slouched against the wall, the eyes of the person who'd plagued her dreams every so often.

"Malfoy."

He returns the distant, cold greeting with a curt nod.

Blair turns to the elder Malfoys, who were watching the interaction between her and their son with surprise, wariness and disappointment. It was clear that they had not known that they had parted on less than amicable terms.

"Haven't I told you to call me Narcissa, dear?" Narcissa smiles. "The years have been good to you. You look more beautiful than ever."

Blair laughs, although some part inside her preens in acknowledgement. Blair was not so ignorant and oblivious to how physically attractive she had become – even Eleanor had admitted Blair was now just as beautiful as Serena (although Blair _had _stopped caring about what her mother thought about her a long time ago, the triumph was still felt).

"It's just been _two_, Narcissa. You make me sound so old."

Lucius leans forward. Despite his appearance, his tone was kept decidedly neutral – a clear sign that despite his wasting physical appearance, the elder Malfoy was still as observant and shrewdly intelligent as ever. "I hear you've kept yourself rather busy these two years, Blair. Making associate in just a few months – that's a big achievement for somebody of your age, indeed."

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy. I do try." Blair purrs, flicking her eyes significantly to the bored figure against the wall. It was no secret that the eyes read, _up yours, Malfoy (_not that Blair would ever use language like _that_)_._

"You've been more productive than my lazy son over there," Lucius continues, his lips set in a sneer and eyes disapproving as he glances at Draco leaning against the wall in a faux casual position that does not quite bely the tension apparent in his body. "_His_ greatest achievement in the two years, I'm ashamed to say, was dating that famous Veela singer for a record of four months -"

"_Father," _Draco snaps, as he abruptly flexes his muscles and pushes away from the wall in a flurry of expensive dress robes. "It was for five months. And however nice it is to see you being so _cuddly_ with our legal representative in court_,_ we're getting off topic."

Immediately the faux-jovial atmosphere is gone. Narcissa sighs, and seems to deflate before Blair's very eyes and she buries her head in her hands, her golden curls that seemed to sparkle as stubbornly as Serena's spilling onto her bone-white hands. Lucius glares harshly at his son. "Play _nicely_, Draco." There's a hint of unspoken threat in his voice before he turns to Blair.

"Forgive my son his lack of manners. I fear I was too lax on him as a child - something that I very much regret to this day. However, it cannot be disagreed that he speaks the truth. My family has found itself in rather ... _dire _circumstances at the moment. A simple misunderstanding, you understand. However, the damage cannot be undone – and I find myself inextricably at a crossroads not of my own choosing. One path, you understand, leads to Azkaban. And I would rather not go down that route at the moment."

Blair places the papers on the desk, meeting his gaze. "I'll do what I can, Mr Malfoy-"

"_Trying_ isn't enough," Draco interrupts, slamming his hand to stop her flipping through the papers. His face is set in cold stone. "This is my father's _future_ we're talking about. I'm not having him rot in Azkaban because you didn't _try _hard enough."

Blair hardens her tone to match his. "This situation is _delicate_, Mr Malfoy," she hisses through clenched teeth.

_Professional, Waldorf. Be nothing but professional. You haven't worked this hard for two years to throw it away for a pair of pretty eyes and a smirk.  
_

"This isn't a simple case of pointing the blame at somebody else and making them take the fall. This isn't the simple case of swaying people and shredding the defense into pieces. This is a high-profile Death Eater case. Everybody is watching this - from the poorest Muggle-born to the entire the Ministry of Magic. It won't just be trying to get your father acquitted. If your father gets off too easily, there will be an outrage in the community, and he's likely to be re-trialed. This is the case of getting _everybody_ to believe that Mr Malfoy is being punished, while in actuality _we _will be the ones who have won the hand."

Lucius Malfoy's calculating gaze is set on her, skepticism apparent. Narcissa is staring, slightly open-mouthed, in wonder and perhaps despairing as well at the magnitude of the situation.

Draco's gaze is unflinching. "How do you propose that?"

Blair stands up and yanks the papers underneath his hand free, glaring at him pointedly. "I'll go through the papers again today, confer and pull some strings with some people I know to get this case started. Meanwhile-" she turns to Lucius Malfoy, "I need to know _everything _I can about this case."

Lucius stares at her, and nods slowly. "I'm afraid it's rather long."

Blair smiles, a well-practiced smile often flashed in the Upper East Side. It was calculating, predatory, and purred _tell me more. _

"You'd best take a seat, Mr Malfoy." She Conjures a plush chair (bearing the crest of WaldorF) wordlessly.

"We have all day."

* * *

"Remind me again. _Why _are we here in the slump of a house?" Draco sneers. His pressed robes stand out among the background of old trees and muddy roads. The tailoring is so exquisite, there's even a certain angle the robes swish at.

Blair sneers back at him. "Because here's where we begin building our case. And remind me again. Why are _you _here following me?"

He scoffs. "I'm paying you big money to get this job done, woman. I'm here to see it done quickly and professionally."

Blair rolls her eyes and pivots around her heel, rapping on the shabby door as smartly and primly as she could. "_Woman_. How blasé can you get?" she mutters under her breath back at him.

Draco snorted. "What would you prefer me to call you, then? Ice Princess? She-Bitch?"

"I've a name. Try using it, Malfoy." Blair snarks.

He can't resist another jibe. "Your given name isn't much better – you do know that it's Gaelic for an 'open plain or field'? I mean, why choose something that makes you sound like a patch of grass?"

He's quite certain that in another time and place, if he was somebody else and she was somebody else, she just might have pointed a certain finger at him. As it were, her anger was almost Fiendfyre-like even in its intangibility. "Be thankful _your_ name is that uncommon that I can't manage to make it sound even stupider than it already is. _Draco_. Please. A dragon you do not make."

Draco matches her sneer with one of his own. "Oh, there's a part of me that's _dragon _all right-"

He is interrupted by the opening of the door, with an elderly lady poking her head through the gap and blinking blearily at them. "Can I help you, m'dears?"

Blair smiles angelically and passes the woman her business card, where a equally glamorous Blair Waldorf strikes pose after pose in office wear, with the words Baizen & Rose stenciled neatly on the front.

"Cecilia Clearwater? I'm Blair Waldorf, Lucius Malfoy's legal acting representative," Blair watches worry and surprise and suspicion flit across the woman's face. "Believe me, I understand what you might be thinking right now, but I'd like to ask you a few questions if you're able to spare the time. I think it would really help the case."

The lady stares at Draco, and the brief warmth turns into suspicion again. "And who's that?"

_I almost had her. Bloody Malfoy has to ruin everything. __  
_

"Draco Malfoy, at your service ma'am," surprisingly, Draco doesn't miss a beat, turning on the charm and stepping forward with a disconcertingly earnest expression. "The truth is, I'm here on my father's behalf. I believe the trial will be just as farce as everybody knows it to be, ma'am, and I'd like to save my father if I can. No man, regardless of past deeds, should be held accountable for things that he didn't do."

Blair tries not to show any surprise, but inwardly she is pleased that Draco has read the Clearwater file – her son Henry too, was tried and sent to Azkaban for a few months due to illegal wand possession, something that had caused an intense debate in _The Daily Prophet _forum pages on the legality of possessing illegal wands during times of war.

Still, Cecilia Clearwater hesitates a little. "Well, m'dearies, I'm not too sure what I can help you with. I don't know if this is being too forthright, but they say the Malfoy's case is a gone case, if you know what I mean – no offense." She adds hastily and completely misses the slight clenching of Draco's jaw.

Not that Blair was looking, of course.

"Still, Mrs. Clearwater," Blair implores her, with the best smile-that-gets-her-her-way smile. "Please, won't you give us some of your time? We believe we could work things out."

"Please. My family-" Draco's voice cracks a little, just enough to make him sound broken and lost, yet strong enough to carry the urgency and sincerity such that Cecilia Clearwater jerks her head up and stares at him for a while.

Blair is infinitely glad that Henry Clearwater, too, had blond hair.

"Come on in, m'dears."

* * *

Blair exits with her brown curls tumbling down her back and a triumphant smirk on her face. It hadn't even taken more than a week of appointments with Cecilia Clearwater to put together a suitably strong case for Lucius Malfoy. Behind her, Draco steps out of the doorway, and follows silently as she strides away from the house, disgust occasionally wrinkling his face as he walks with her to the Apparition zone.

They walk in silence. This brief partnership has Blair in a particularly reminiscent mood, forcibly reminding her that she had Draco had schemed together, for a brief period of time just a few years before. Apparently they were still good partners-in-crime as ever. Draco too, seems lost in thought - he wasn't his usual chatty self. Their eyes flicker up and meet briefly, before sliding away.

It only takes a few moments before Blair speaks. The curiosity in her cannot be suppressed, and she's been holding it in for a while now.

"Tell me the truth, Malfoy. I know you could have chosen any other lawyer – I know for a fact that a few top-notch lawyers have been eyeing this case for a while now. Thomas Baines at Zabini & Zafrilegias, Adrian Smith at Black & Partner. I'm only associate, and I've been a lawyer for only two years. Why did you pick me?"

There a silence as the words hang in the air and he stares at her. It's so reminiscent of the way he used to look at her before things fell apart, before he slowly nods and looks away.

She's about to leave when he abruptly speaks.

"When I first saw you, you were just a first-year and I knew you were the Waldorf heir only because my father was acquainted with Eleanor and he wanted me to keep an eye out. You were being sorted, and when I looked at you I remember thinking how you didn't walk like you were a first year; you walked like you were about to ascend a throne. It was a stupid thought and I didn't think much about you after that. Then I started hearing about how Slytherin girls were starting to wear _pink _accessories instead of the standard silver and green. I remember hearing about how Amber Michells had to transfer out in tears and no one knew why – or if they did, they didn't talk about it. I remember thinking that whatever it was, it had to do with you. Then I saw you, _really _saw you for the first time when you were talking to your blond friend. I saw for the first time how you controlled everybody around you and I thought you reminded me of someone."

He paused.

"Because, Blair when you set your mind to it…you're unstoppable. You're unshakeable. You pick up something, and you get hooked, and then you never let go. You give it your best. And this was my father we were talking about. If I had to choose any lawyer with the intelligence, the resources, the _tenacity_ to get him out, no matter the cost, I'd pick you over any other Thomas Baines or Adrian Smith any day."

Blair sneers, but the cold expression is just a mask to dampen the warm glow that's spreading in her. "Pretty words, Malfoy. Have you forgotten the parts where you insinuated I was incompetent and insisted on following me around?"

It's a while before he answers, his face carefully blank. "Maybe it's because I missed having you around."

Blair's left speechless; she's not sure if she heard it right. A part of her wants him to repeat it, but she'd be awfully embarrassed if she'd misheard him. She wants to say something – _anything _– clever or witty enough that's appropriate for this situation, but for once her tongue is numb and her brain so frozen that she ends up stuttering like one of Chuck's ditzy girlfriends after three martinis and a moderately intelligent book.

"I….I…"

And the moment was gone.

"I'll see you around. Waldorf." He nods briefly at her and she understands, maybe after the years of loving and kissing and hating and fighting each other they've managed a tentative truce.

"Malfoy." She coolly returns.

But he doesn't make a move to leave, and she doesn't either. She's just saved his father from a certain death and she feels that if anything, it's _him _who owes her. Their gazes stay locked, frozen in place with the icy cold of unfamiliarity threaded with strands of longing. (Even after they're over, they still can't stop the games.)

But in that moment, Blair isn't quite sure if she wants to win the game after all. Her mouth opens, her lips move, shaping words that somehow refuse to be spoken. She's not sure how to string her sentence - _whowasthatwoman doyoulikeherdoyouloveher doyouloveme -_ so she just stands still and wait for him to speak.

The steely grey eyes soften for a moment, and his lips too, part like he's about to say something. They stand there, mirroring each other. As if a habit, Blair leans slightly forward to catch the whispered words. "Blair… I l-"

But the sentence trails off into the frozen air, ending just as abruptly as it began. Draco pulls back, rubbing his left arm with irritation now. He doesn't speak for a while, but stares at his arm as though in contemplation before he stands up.

"I've got to go. I'll be seeing you, Waldorf."

"Draco-" The words leap to Blair's mouth. There's this sudden aching, _longing _inside her to be so close to Draco and not touch him. _We should have coffee together one day. I miss you, too._

But there's a sharp crack, he's gone and the words ring empty in the frigid air.

Blair stares, feeling oddly disappointed, before she turns and heads back into the office for the celebratory party, fixing on a perfect smile (that she learnt to do before she was three) and pushes him out of her mind, fixating on the glory she's about to receive.

She's been without him for two years, what difference can a couple of years make?

* * *

Lucius gets off with six months in Azkaban and life-long house confinement.

At the celebratory dinner, there's dancing. Blair sips her Elvish Cocello over the flute of her wineglass as she watches Serena, giggling, be dipped low by a dark-haired man with a sensuous mouth and large hands. Even after all these years and four husbands, Serena is still the bubbly life of the party. Chuck's either skulking around trying to pick up younger girls or trying to seal a deal with Lucius Malfoy regarding the trade of dragonskins in Britain. Nate's absent with apologies (he's at St Mungo's with his wife in labor again) and she finds there's nobody decent enough to talk to.

Seven men have come to her to ask for a dance. She declines them all.

Blair takes another sip and tells herself she's not looking for him, she's not waiting for him.

When _he_ appears suddenly from the fireplace and collapses, smelling of smoke, soot, and bleeding from various cuts (to the horror of the guests), she tells herself she doesn't care. Lucius has gone white, his cane tapping out a whole new rhythm, and Narcissa has excused herself to help Draco to his room. The mood of the party has fallen so far only the bright giggles of Serena, still lost in her own world, float around in the silence.

Her hands itch. She feels like doing something, _needs_ to do something. But not to seek him out.

Definitely not to seek him out.

She tells herself it's because she's just thrown up that her hands are trembling again.

* * *

A/N Definitely not my best chapter. But somehow this chapter was the hardest to write, so review please? :)


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